


Like the Sky

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Fingerfucking, Frodo is a dominant bottom, Hobbit Cannon Divergence-everyone lives, M/M, PWP, bagginshield relationship, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gondor is struggling on the war effort and Denethor is finally convinced to seek help. Of the realms he calls on, Erebor answers and the eldest son of Denethor is captivated by the emissary the King Under the Mountain sent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Sky

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. No. Not at all. Their relationship should not have proceeded past platonic friendship.

But the young prince was too beautiful for him to comprehend. From the pale skin to the musical tenor of his voice, the prince was beautiful in every way he could imagine.

Boromir could and should admit he’s obsessed. But he never would.

Skin white as marble, hair black as onyx, eyes like the sky, lips pale pink as cherry blossoms…

And then he opened his mouth:

_“Hail Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor.”_

But for now, what escape his mouth are soft groans as Boromir runs his fingers down the soft belly of the prince.

He can fit his whole hand over the fairy’s forearm and hand, and he’s afraid he’ll crush him.

His lips, words lost on them since there are no words to describe how he feels for the prince, kiss his fairy’s lower belly.

He pushes himself up and spread the legs apart, staring at the prince’s nakedness. The prince bites his kiss-bruised lip, arms resting against the mattress, hands on either side of his head. He stares at Boromir through clouded eyes.

Torch light is the only light and it does eerie things to the prince’s pale skin.

“By the gods, you’re beautiful,” Boromir rasps.

A small laugh manages to escape the prince’s mouth. “My uncles would kill you for this if they knew,” he assured him. “So you may as well make it worth dying for, Lord Boromir.”

_When Gandalf’s demands that Gondor seek aid from other nations, Denethor had been stubbornly reluctant. Three years passed before he relented and sent word for aid to Rohan, Lothlorien, Mirkwood, the seven Dwarf kingdoms—he didn’t know who would come if any._

_The men of Gondor, after all, are very prideful._

_But it turns out that several kingdoms were willing to give aid and had sent emissaries to discuss time, compensation, so on. Boromir thought it a mistake._

_And when Erebor’s emissary arrived…_

_He had known, from the letter of accepting the call for aid, that King Thorin was sending one of his nephews._

_He simply left out the information that said nephew was actually the younger cousin adopted by the Prince Consort and, for reasons Boromir did not know, called him nephew instead._

_But when Erebor’s emissary arrived, Boromir felt a bit uncertain…this was the mighty war tactician that Erebor promised to provide?_

_He was actually expecting an elder dwarf, war-weary and knowledgeable bedecked in tattoos and piercings._

_He removed his hood._

Boromir kissed him. “I intend to, my lord.” Oh, he intended to. He intended to make this prince scream. He intended to make him blind with pleasure. He did fear he was too large for the prince, but he figured dragging it out would be best so not to hurt him—though the thought of making him bleed made him twitch.

But no.

That would not do.

He watched as the prince lay still, barely shifting beneath him, eyes hazy behind his lids. He stretched his arms lazily like a cat, arching his back as he did. The red shaft rested on the fairy’s belly. He pulled his legs, still firmly pinned in Boromir’s grasp.

The fur on his feet brushed against Boromir’s hands.

“Do you intend to stare at me all night?” the prince asked. “Or is staring at me like this enough for you? Are you afraid you’ll tear me? I assure you, you won’t.”

He dare not say his prince’s name, deeming it too sacred to even utter.

“How would you have me?”

“I’d have your cock inside me, pounding my sweet spot until I can’t talk. As you can tell, I’m still rather coherent. That won’t do, Love. Not if you intend to please me.”

_“Hail Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor,” the little thing said. “I am Frodo Baggins, nephew of Lord Bilbo Baggins, Prince Consort of Erebor and Husband to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. I am at your service.” He finished his introduction with a bow._

_“You are most welcome, Lord Frodo,” Denethor began slowly. He was as unsure as Boromir. “Forgive me, but I was under the impression a commanding officer of Erebor’s army would be coming.”_

_Frodo grinned, ignoring the slight. “I’m forty, my lord, and have led three excursions to reclaim Moria from the Orcs of Gundebad since my coming of age seven years ago. I may not look it, but I assure you, I am more then qualified to give whatever aid Erebor may.”_

_The Dwarves of Erebor were as grand as the Men of Gondor and just as prideful. Boromir couldn’t say he was not impressed._

_It was this resume that was presented to them when the letter came. Three excursions in seven years was impressive indeed._

Boromir’s breath hitched. “I wouldn’t think Hobbits would know such language.”

“You forget I was raised by Dwarves.”

“Point taken. Tell me what to do.”

“You can start by stretching me, Boromir. You won’t be able to fit that nice cock you have in my hole unless you fingerfuck me first.”

_The next three weeks improved Boromir’s impression of Frodo._

_The prince knew what he was doing. He was patient and calculating. His youth was soon a highlight. Talk about Frodo usually went about how skilled of a warrior he was, his success as a soldier, and then the speaker would say:_

_“And to think he’s only forty! I hear Hobbits don’t come of age until thirty-three years, so I have it on good faith that Lord Frodo is quite talented at his job!”_

Boromir coated his fingers in oil Frodo had brought with him. “You should get on your knees.”

Frodo obeyed, but not in the way Boromir intended, standing on his knees rather than splaying his rear in the air for him. He kissed him pulling the oiled hand around to caress the small bum. Boromir pulls the mounds apart and rubs a finger against sensitive, tight skin before daring to push the finger inside.

Frodo moans, pushing on Boromir’s finger. “Good puppy,” he whispers, rewarding Boromir with another kiss. Boromir isn’t sure how he likes being called “Puppy,” but he’ll abide. He slides his finger in and out in slow, rhythmical motions.

“Give me another, Love,” Frodo demands. And Boromir complies. Frodo twitches, darting his tongue over Boromir’s lips. “Very good, Puppy.” Boromir groaned. Frodo grinned, wriggling his ass a little. “C’mon, Puppy, move for me. Stretch me slow so I can take your cock.” He obeyed, even going so far as to insert the third finger without Frodo’s permission.

Boromir thought he may have angered his lover in doing so, as the hiss seeped through Frodo’s teeth. He’s rewarded with a kiss and a small bite on his lower lip.

“Good Puppy,” Frodo groans. “Knows what Master wants. Very good…c’mon, Puppy, can you find Master’s sweet spot? Can you make him scream?”

Boromir’s length felt far too hot, scalding his flesh and, quite possibly, Frodo’s as well. He pumped his fingers in at different angles, trying to find it—

Frodo’s mouth opened in a silent scream. He pulled Boromir’s face to him, crashing lips together, mumbling _faster, by Aule’s beard, faster and harder._

He pumped his fingers in and out so quickly and erratically, he worried this adventure—this forbidden defiance, this ravishing , this too fucking beautiful moment—would end to shortly.

“Give me another, Puppy. Please. Give me another—argh!”

Boromir paused.

“Too much?”

“A little, but not bad,” Frodo gasped, quivering. “Do you not like slow preparation, love?”

“No, it’s just…I…” Boromir licked his lips. Frodo squeezed around Boromir’s encased fist. “I feel I’m on the edge. Sooner I’m inside my…my master, the better.”

Frodo kissed him. “Wait for my queue,” he murmured. He continued to quiver, kissing Boromir lazily before pushing down on Boromir’s hand. “Find my spot again, Puppy, make me scream.”

_Boromir didn’t think much on attraction. Especially not attraction to Frodo. Not until he woke up one night from dreaming of the prince doing some rather lewd things involving Boromir’s cock._

_He couldn’t look at Frodo in the eye for the whole day. That voice was grating him in all the right-wrong ways. The dream wasn’t helping either._

In his dreams, Frodo was not confident or sure of himself as he was in reality. He was compliant, pliable, wanton, and innocent.

Boromir wasn’t sure which version he preferred. The real Frodo, clearly dominant and vibrating with restrained regality or the dream Frodo who crawled to Boromir with lust in his eyes and a desire to serve.

_“You know I’ve noticed you staring at me, right, Lord Boromir?” Frodo asked, smirking._

_Boromir blinked, snapping out of his daydream. “Have I?”_

_“May I ask why?”_

_Panic hit Boromir like a wave. “No, you may not.”_

_Frodo seemed taken aback at first. Then he smirked and walked away._

Boromir pulled his hand out of Frodo, pushing him back onto the bed and lifting his legs. Frodo wrapped them around his waist as best he could, pressing his ass against Boromir’s crotch.

“Puppy knows what to do next, right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.”

Boromir slicked his cock in oil, positioning the head against Frodo’s hole. He slowly, carefully pushed in. But it was enough.  
Just a few small wedges in…just the head…and Frodo moaned, eyes closed and body shivering.

“More…” he demanded. “Boromir, more…and go faster, for fucks sake!”

Boromir rolled his hips, developing a pace which would appease his fairy while also not hurt him too much. He angled himself to find that sweet spot. Frodo screamed when he found it and he begged and screamed and cursed.

_Boromir took to watching Frodo when they weren’t talking. Watched him talk to others with jealousy in his heart…Watched him eat wishing he was whatever Frodo put in his mouth…_

_“You’re in love, aren’t you?” Faramir asked one night, catching Boromir watching Frodo and hearing the sigh that escaped his mouth._

_“I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“Lord Frodo is very comely, isn’t he? A lot of the others, men and women, have been eyeballing him.”_

_Boromir glared at his brother. “What are you suggesting?”_

_“I suggest you tell him. He will be returning to Erebor soon and won’t return until he has the agreed on force he promised us.”_

_Swallowing, Boromir turned back to Frodo, leaning on the table and staring at Frodo._

_Faramir snorted. “You’ve fallen hard.”_

_Boromir leaves out that he couldn’t be in love with Frodo as he desires to bed him more than to court him. He didn’t think his brother would appreciate him entertaining lewd thoughts such as that!_

Frodo comes first with a high pitched scream. Covered in come, he goes limp, moaning and groaning and whimpering and keening and making the most beautiful noises. So Boromir isn’t far behind. He comes inside Frodo, who screams again.

“Oh, fuck, you’re the best puppy I’ve ever had!”

_Frodo grabs Boromir’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure to work with you. I leave tomorrow and I don’t think I’ll have much of a chance to say goodbye before then.”_

_He walks away and Boromir opens the strip of parchment. **You’re painfully obvious, you brat. Meet me in my room at ten o’clock tonight—Frodo.**_

Tossing the cloth aside, Boromir lays beside Frodo atop the sheets, a hand stroking Frodo’s belly again.

“Can we do this again?”

“Not tonight. I do have to leave in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean tonight.”

Frodo chuckled and turned on his side, snuggling next to Boromir. Given the commanding nature Frodo displayed, Boromir had not expected him to be a cuddler. “Next time might not be for a while, Puppy,” he said, tracing a finger over Boromir’s skin. “Think you can hold off until I come back in a year’s time?”

“What do you mean hold off?”

“Relax, I’m not that sadistic. Though the idea of making you abstain from touching yourself does have merit…”

“That’s too cruel.”

“My point exactly. But I would demand you think only of me.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Sleep now, Pup.” Frodo kissed Boromir’s breast and snuggled closer, falling to sleep. Boromir stayed awake, wanting to cherish the calmness of his fairy sleeping beside him.

He felt sad when he realized how cold his bed would feel in the next year before his new lover returned.


End file.
